i just found out that one of my favorite ladies at the nursing home passed away on friday evening. her name was gladys. she didn't have teeth, which sounds so incredily unappealing, i know. but it gave gladys a sort of charm, because she had the most sweet, pleasant mouth that somehow became more pronounced when she didn't have her dentures in. she also had these enormous, young eyes. they were green and had such a sweet glimmer to them. she was like a little sprite...with a twinkle in her eye and a most mischevious smile.
gladys loved music and hats. she was always chilly, so her family would bring her lots of felted beanies to keep her head warm. every friday she wore this ridiculous purple hat with huge red and green music notes on it to our music group. she loved that hat. and every week i'd say 'why gladys! you're all dressed up for music today!' and she'd say 'i know! i thought you'd like it.' sometimes we'd joke about her having a song stuck in her head.
she had been living at exempla for years. and about two weeks ago, she developed a very high fever, and went into a bit of a comatose state, which is a pretty clear indicator that a person is actively dying. that's the clinical term: actively dying. seems sort of oxymoronic to me...but it indicates that a person's body is about ready to quit.
so gladys was moved to the family room, which is set aside for residents and their families in a resident's last days. it's private, and has sofa beds, etc...so the family is able to spend as much time as they like with their loved one. gladys' whole family came, including a daughter, judy, who hadn't been visiting very much in recent months, because she suffered the loss of her own daughter as a result of huntington's disease. i suppose it was just too hard for her to see gladys. i never heard gladys talk about it...(i'm not even sure how aware she was of the situation, what with her dementia and all...), but i know it was quite tragic and absolutely painful for judy.
when gladys was moved into the family room, we all expected her to die pretty quickly. after all, her body was quitting on her pretty fast and she was basically unconscious, but when i came into work last monday, gladys (as well as her whole family) was still there. she was hanging on for something.
i've realized that when working in a nursing home, with people who are pretty much all over age 75, one has to come to terms with death as a natural, expected occurance. i don't want to say that the residents at my facility are there to die, but they are there to enjoy their last years, or months, or even just days, in safety and peace. the eventual-and natural-outcome is death and it's got me thinking lately.
i don't really have a relationship with death. all my relatives are still living, the losses suffered in my life haven't been devestating. sad, yes. tragic, in some cases, yes. but those who are closest to me and most loved by me are all still toiling under the sun with me. (thankfully.) so, working at exempla has brought this part of the living process into a new light for me.
when it is not hurried, when it is merely the physical shell's natural wearing out that is the cause of death, it becomes an incredibly holy time. it is amazing how present a person can be in the midst of their death. i said that gladys was staying around for a reason. well, on wednesday of last week, judy got the flu and wasn't able to come to the nursing home, because she didn't want to spread her germs around. she didn't show up on thursday or friday either; she was too sick. gladys died on friday night. she simply wanted to soak up the uninterrupted time she had with her daughter, who had been so distant and so sad in recent months.
and even though her mind had slipped away, and she didn't have an understanding of judy's situation, gladys' spirit loved her daughter, and missed her daughter. so, when she had the opportunity to be with her--in whatever small, small capacity--gladys held on and treasured every minute of it. it wasn't until judy had become distant and somewhat unavailable again that gladys felt it was time to leave.
it's incredible, isn't it? our spirits connect, our spirits are present, our spirits are our true selves. and when they need something--to give love, to recieve love, to bask in the beauty of love--there is no physical thing that will stop it. that is who we truly are. that is where we are made in the image of God. and i wish that so many of us didn't wait until our deathbed to live inside of that truth.
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